Tales of Kisses
by Ronnie
Summary: My first kiss wasn't as dramatic as you'd expect. (SLASH: Harry PotterxDraco Malfoy)


**Title: Tales of Kisses   
Rating: PG  
Summary: Our first kiss wasn't as dramatic as you'd expect.  
**_  
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all the HP related ideas used in this story. I am just a humble fun using her great ideas. I gain no profit from this. _

**SLASH AHEAD! MALE KISSING MALE! MAKE FOR THE LIFE BOATS!**

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Our first kiss wasn't as dramatic as you'd expect out of two people who do everything with such passion. We hated each other with a passion greater than anything we've ever experienced before; we played our favorite game with passion that made our auras flare and shine. We chased each other with passion, passion to win. And later on, we loved each other with passion. But our first kiss, our first kiss was mild, comparing it to everything else. A hesitated touch of lips, a searching touch of tongues and choked sounds that were absorbed into the cold stones of the corridor around us. He made the first move. He was always controlling, always in need to be on top of everything (No pun intended, of course) and he was also the first to say those words. No, not those words. He admitted our… lust. He admitted that he wanted me and that he thought of me with something other than hate in his mind. He admitted that he had wanted me for such a long time that he pained, ached with the desire to silence those little voices in the back of his minds, voices that were calling out my name. But that came later. After the kiss. After those first moments of confusion and fumbling for fastening of robes, of trying to tear down the restraints that held us apart for so long. Yes, we were eager. We were eager and young and we wanted to touch and feel and learn with the tips of our fingers just what it was like to love each other. I remember exactly what he looked like, the dancing light of the torch playing across his sharp features like a painter's loving brush over a canvas, drawing lines, creating shadows. I stood before him, three paces apart, and admired the master piece that was him. He was also inspecting me, taking in everything, the expression on his face so intense that it almost embarrassed me. I could read him. For the first time since I met him I could tell what he was thinking.  
  
I think it was fate that brought us both to that corridor at that late hour. I felt restless and couldn't sleep, so I decided to go out and explore the castle. On my own. I knew every crook and every corridor in the place I called my home but still everything held a fascinating story that I had to unveil. A past that just waited to be awaken. I think I had been walking for about 15 minutes when I stumbled upon that corridor. I took a wrong turn on my way to the prefect's bathroom and ended up in there, surrounded by ancient paintings and suits of armor. Everything around me was new and I marveled at that like a child would, wide eyed, reaching hesitated fingers to touch the faces painted onto the yellowing canvas. They, in turn, yelled at me to go to bed. "This is no place for a child such as yourself!" said an elderly lady, wagging a two dimensional finger at me. I suppressed a snicker and promised here I would go to bed soon. I ducked under a spider's web and continued to walk down the corridor, clutching hard onto my invisibility cloak, careless in my curiosity. I should have heard him coming. I knew now that in my dazed and amazed state I let my guards down. When I raised my eyes from an ancient piece of armor lying on the dusty floor, I was met with an icy grey gaze. I let out a small scream and jumped backwards, reaching for my wand that was hidden in the sleeve of my cloak.   
  
"Potter, you idiot…" he drawled, shaking his head to himself. All I did in return was stare. There was a window built into the wall above his head and one silver ray of moonlight illuminated his features, washing them with ethereal light. As much as I hated him – or at least thought I hated him – I could always appreciate beauty and Draco Malfoy was all beauty. Sharp cheek bones, full lips and enchanting eyes caused him to stand out. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here?" he asked, snapping me out of my reverie. I remember thinking that no matter how beautiful how was, no matter how breathtaking, he was still an idiot.  
I gave a weary sigh, rolling my eyes heavenwards. "I could really ask you the same thing, Malfoy, but that would lead us no where. I'm here, you're here, and that's it." I said, trying my best not to show him how tired, tired of all the fighting and exchanges of verbal blows, I really was. I felt his gaze on me, even when I turned mine away, inspecting me up and down, studying me. I don't remember my exact thoughts at the time but I don't think they were that important. I would have remembered them if they were, right? I just remember Malfoy – Draco – looking at me with those eyes of his and I remember reading lust and need on his face. Why now, I remember wondering, after almost six years of fighting each other and hating each other with everything that we were. He took one step towards me, bringing him so close to me that I could smell the faint scent of his perfume. He smelled like pine trees. Now, after all these years, that smell still reminds me of that first night.  
  
"Yes… that's it, Potter." He paused, taking a moment to lick his dry lips. I gulped. 'Tell me, my dear Gryffindor friend. Do you think there's a reason why we hate each other so much?" he questioned, taking another step towards me. I remember staring at him with a dumbfounded look on my face, my jaw practically touching the fine dust on the stone floor. Suddenly, the hall seemed smaller, like the walls were closing in on us, forcing us together. My robes seemed to enclose me within their tight black cocoon and I had to restrain myself from pulling at the collar of my shirt. I was confused.   
  
"A reason? Do we need a reason, Malfoy?" I asked in a small voice, pleasure surging through me at the sight of his brows furrowing together in confusion. "You're Draco Malfoy, I'm Harry Potter. You're Slytherin, I'm Gryffindor. That's it. That is why we hate each other." I shrugged my shoulders. Looking back, I now ask myself what was I thinking when I made that tiny but dramatic speech.   
  
"Really? And is that enough of a reason for you?"  
  
"That and the fact that you constantly make fun of my friends and wish slow and painful death upon me? Yes." I answered, feeling completely satisfied with myself. A tiny smirk played upon those perfect lips of him as he took the final step that separated us, staring right into my eyes. Those stormy orbs of his weren't as cold as they usually were. There was a touch of warmth in them.   
  
"You've got one thing wrong, though." He said, slowly, quietly, almost whispering. I heard him clearly. "I don't hate you. I used to. But I don't anymore." And with that he sealed my lips with his, cutting off any other comments from me.   
  
Like I said in the beginning, it wasn't as dramatic as you would expect. No fireworks, no violins, the earth did no slip from under me. It felt good, though. It felt right. And when Draco's – Draco now, not Malfoy – arms slipped around me to hold me closer, I forgot all my resentment and just clung to him, wishing to feel his skin against mine. We still had a lot of differences; we still had a lot of things to work out between us and even at the time we knew that there was no way anything could work out between the two of us.   
  
When we kissed for the first time, none of that mattered.   
  
My first kiss with my first love might have not been dramatic, but it was all I needed to make me realize that I loved him.


End file.
